


No Rabies Required

by wynnebat



Series: Author's Favorites [15]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Animagus, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Friendship, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, Tom & Harry grew up in foster care together AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 16:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15343611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wynnebat/pseuds/wynnebat
Summary: Upset after a quidditch loss, Harry hides out on the banks of the Black Lake. A certain grumpy raccoon joins him.





	No Rabies Required

“I’m not being over-dramatic,” Harry mutters as he hears footsteps approach his hiding spot.

He’s off the path that circles the Black Lake, curled against a large stone at his back. There’s another stone beneath him and the lake a few centimeters from his feet. It had been roomy when he’d been a first year, finding it after a bad day and not leaving until Tom figured out how to do a spell five years ahead of him to find him. That day, Tom sat with Harry well into the night, and side by side they’d watched the stars. Now at sixteen, the little corner is just barely large enough for one human to sit in and mope about his quidditch team’s loss.

The footsteps stop at the sound of Harry’s voice. Harry hopes it’s Hermione or Ron, not Tom. As their team’s keeper, Ron would understand him completely, while Hermione would know to give him space. Tom on the other hand... Harry’s Slytherin friend never seems to understand just how much quidditch means to him. Harry had tried a few times, explaining how he feels so free in the air, like there’s nothing that could ever hurt or worry him again. The game itself can be brutal and fierce, but it’s exactly what Harry needs. It’s stress relief. It’s life relief. It’s the wind in his hair and the broom between his thighs and the ability to prove himself.

Today, it’s just losing so badly that they most likely won’t be able to come back from it and win the house cup. It’s Harry’s first year as team captain and he’s screwed it up completely. He’s not Tom, who never seems to be bad at anything except empathy, and even that he can fake most of the time.

Whoever it is sighs loudly, which narrows it down to one person. Harry knows that sigh well. He’s the only one that sigh is ever directed toward; Tom’s perfect prefect persona never sighs, while Tom’s asshole persona goes straight to reprimanding his Slytherin minions. Usually, Harry feels special, being the only person Tom is patient enough to sigh at and be kind toward (even when Tom claims he’s not being kind, but if it’s not kindness, what else could it be?).

There’s an odd sound, then little clicking sounds on top of the stone. Harry smiles despite himself. He can’t help it. He cranes his head up and laughs as he sees a raccoon looking down at him half a meter up. It just walks off the ledge, sure in the fact that Harry will catch it, and of course Harry does.

He hugs it to his chest, sharp little claws and all. “Who’s my favorite trash panda?”

Tom chitters disgruntedly at him, but doesn’t try to get away even when Harry rubs his cheek against the side of Tom’s furry little face. Tom makes a handsome raccoon, with adorably creepy little hands and bushy white eyebrows and a striped tail. He’s getting heavy in Harry’s arms, now at his almost fully grown size. Harry hasn’t seen his friend’s animagus form in ages since Tom is unreasonable about not transforming for Harry’s amusement and cuddling. The last time Tom had pulled out his form was to reassure Harry right before his potions OWL. Harry had been stressed to the max, feeling ill-prepared despite hours of studying with Hermione and being graded on his practice potions by Tom. Five minutes with Mr. Tomcoon and he’d walked into the exam room with only a slightly elevated heartbeat.

Tom doesn’t immediately turn back, so Harry holds him for a while as he watches the giant squid try to grab birds out of the sky. Tom is warm in his arms, quiet and still, his heart beating under Harry’s hand. Eventually, Harry gets up to walk back toward Hogwarts. He feels calmer. Better. It’s all Tom’s fault. Tom doesn’t take the chance to jump out of Harry’s arms, so Harry just carries him with him.

“Lazy bum,” Harry says, enjoying the additional moments with his raccoon friend. He’s going to miss Tom’s furry little self when Tom inevitably jumps out of his arms and transforms back to his overly handsome human self. It’s not that Harry doesn’t like both forms (he likes Tom’s human form a little too much, to be honest) but he’ll miss Tom’s cuddliness.

As Harry nears Hogwarts, the wooded path around the lake turns grassy and open, and Harry sees the rest of the Gryffindor team gathered on the lawn. They’ve all showered and changed out of their quidditch gear; it’s only Harry who decided to escape the common room so soon after their loss.

“Did you get sick of the consolation party?” he calls as he approaches.

“We could hardly party without our captain,” Ron replies, hands in his robe pockets.

Harry can see the tiredness in their bodies, but still they made their way all the way out here just for their captain. Harry feels warm all over. He really does have the best friends. “I wasn’t in much of a partying mood, but I’m better now thanks to this guy.”

“Why are you carrying a raccoon?” Angelina asks as Harry comes to a stop beside her. She not so discreetly takes a step back.

Harry is totally offended. Tom is cute as shit. “He’s our new mascot.” Harry holds Tom up for their perusal, even lifting one of Tom’s paws to wave at them. Ginny waves back. Tom bares his little teeth at the lot of them. Harry decides to take it as a smile, if a somewhat threatening one. “Since McGonagall nixed our live lion idea, we have to get creative.”

“Can we take a vote on that?”

“Sorry, this is a dictatorship,” Harry says with a grin. Tom will never actually agree to it, so there’s no danger of his team leading a revolt against Harry’s leadership.

The unofficial rule is still in place: whoever completed their animagus training with the coolest form will become their mascot. Back in first year, Harry had learned that his parents had mastered the animagus transformation back when they’d been in school themselves. His father had been a buck, while his mother a swan. Professor McGonagall even shared a photograph with Harry, which Harry placed in the password-protected section of his trunk that he stored all his precious mementos in. It joined a few items that survived the fiendfyre explosion in Godric’s Hollow that killed most of the residents, including Harry’s parents and their closest friends. In the years afterward, Harry collected little pieces of memories from his foster homes, photographs and seashells and an artistic rendering of a neighbor’s cat. He doesn’t have memories or mementos of his short time with his aunt and uncle, who he was told he’d been placed with first for a short time. Harry doesn’t particularly hate them. He can’t. Harry would give them up any day as long as it meant that he and Tom would one day be placed in the same home, seven years old and alone and forging a bond that would outlast everything the world has thrown at them since.

Tom had even joined Harry in his animagus training. Later, they were joined by nearly the entire Gryffindor house and the unofficial rule had been proposed, but they haven’t found a properly majestic form yet. Even Harry’s woodpecker form, while fierce, isn’t awesome enough to show off during games. Harry’s still holding out for a lion. Surely one of the Gryffindors will embody their house traits enough to transform into a lion one day.

“I know we lost—”

“—horribly—” Cormac adds.

“—yeah, horribly, but we had a lot going against us. The rain, Goyle managing to knock three of us off our brooms in moves that just have to be illegal even if Hooch doesn’t think so, Malfoy surprising us with brooms that aren’t even on the market yet, my hotness distracting you—”

Ginny giggles. “Harry, you looked like a drowned rat.”

“—a hot drowned rat,” Harry valiantly argues. “But there’s still a chance that we can come back from this and win the house cup. A small chance, but it’s still enough. What are Gryffindors if not champions of nearly hopeless causes? I believe in us.”

And maybe the rest of his team believes in him despite everything, because he gets nothing but determination and tireless hope in return.

“To Gryffindor!” the team yells, Harry the loudest of all. He holds his hand over Tom’s little ears, hoping the volume doesn’t hurt him.

“To sabotaging the other teams!” Cormac yells, and Ginny adds, “Starting with Slytherin!”

Tom hisses at the both of them, but they just high five each other and begin making plans. Dean and Ron get dragged into it, while Angelina just gives the raccoon in Harry’s arms another doubtful look.

“Harry, seriously, you’re going to die of rabies before the semifinals.”

In response, Harry just holds best friend close and kisses the top of one of his cute little ears. “He would never.” Tom bites him lightly, not even drawing blood. To the team’s consternation, Harry just grins and says, “Tomorrow, we get up at dawn. We’ll blow Malfoy and his new brooms out of the sky next time we face off.”

For now, all he gets is promises that they won’t let him down, but he knows that come morning he’ll be stabbing his broom at their four-poster beds to get them up. As the team heads back to the Gryffindor tower, Harry holds back, knowing Tom would prefer to transform back under the cover of one of the nearby trees or greenhouses. Neither he or Tom have registered their animagus forms with the ministry, and they don’t plan to anytime soon. To Harry’s horror, he isn’t the only one who stays behind.

Ginny waits long enough to make sure the rest of the team is out of earshot to say, “Well, Harry?”

Tom hisses at her, but settles down when Harry’s body stiffens, his heart racing. Unfortunately, it’s not rabies setting in. Crap, Harry had really hoped that Ginny would have forgotten the _other_ part about why today’s loss had been so horrible.

“I made that bet while drunk and under duress,” Harry tells her, knowing it won’t be enough. Once Ginny has a goal in mind, it’s nearly impossible to dissuade her. And this goal is unfortunately shared between her, the rest of the Weasleys, and Hermione, so Harry has nowhere to run.

“You promised on your Gryffindor honor,” Ginny replies, crossing her arms.

Tom makes an inquisitive little noise in Harry’s arms, now probably happy that he stayed in this form as long as he gets to see Harry squirm and overhear some secrets. Harry hates the both of them.

“The sorting hat almost placed me in Slytherin, so technically, I can’t have _that_ much Gryffindor honor. And frankly, my Slytherin honor compels me to tell you that my promise wasn’t a magically binding oath.”

Ginny sighs at him, her body language loosening as she sees just how uncomfortable Harry is. “Come on, Harry. You have to tell him someday. You’re miserable when you try to keep secrets from him and this is the biggest one you’ve tried to keep.”

“I’m comfortable in my denial,” Harry says, trying not to look down at Tom, who is quiet and unmoving in his arms. “It’s all of you who aren’t comfortable with it.”

“We just want you to be happy.” Ginny approaches him, carefully giving him a hug from the side so that he doesn’t disrupt Harry’s hold on Tom. She’s warm, sweet, and even at her nosiest, she’s the sister Harry’s never had. “Just consider it, alright?”

“I will,” Harry says. It’s truer than he wishes it were. He’s already resigning himself to the fact that as soon as Ginny leaves, Tom will demand to know what she’d meant. Tom is too quiet in his arms, too willing to put up with Ginny’s hug.

As Ginny lets go, she adds, “And don’t die of rabies, would you? You’ll make Tom cry.”

“Tom doesn’t cry,” Harry says, rolling his eyes. “He just goes coldly furious.”

“That, too. I don’t want the inferi apocalypse starting because Tom resurrects your rabied self.”

“I can’t believe you’d think my best friend is capable of necromancy,” Harry tisks at her as she waves in goodbye. Although, in all honesty, Harry’s more offended that Ginny would think Tom would mishandle necromancy. He has the utmost faith in Tom’s magical skills, even if Harry would rather his friend not add the black arts to his skill set. Harry’s had a hard enough time trying to steer Tom away from the worst of dark magic.

Tom squirms out of Harry’s arms soon after. Harry lowers him to the grass, then watches the raccoon scamper off behind a tree. A few moments later, Tom strides briskly back toward Harry. His hair is all over the place after Harry’s petting and there’s a leaf stuck to his robes, but Tom doesn’t seem to care.

“Tell me what?” Tom asks the instant he returns to Harry’s side.

“We could’ve been talking about somebody else,” Harry replies. He knows it’s futile, but still. It’s not as though the world revolves around Tom. (It’s only that Harry’s does, which is sort of the problem.) “Besides, I’m your friend, not your shadow. I’m allowed to keep secrets.”

“You don’t keep secrets from me.” Tom’s frowning, his tone deliberately even.

Harry’s known his friend too long to not know what it looks like when Tom’s feelings are unexpectedly hurt. It doesn’t happen often—Tom rarely cares enough about other people for them to have such an impact on him—but when it does, Harry feels like the lowest of the low. Still, he holds his ground. “ _You_ keep secrets from _me_.”

“Not for very long,” Tom retorts. “You always manage to pry them out of me.”

“Is this your way of getting payback?”

“Yes. Now tell me, Harry.”

There’s no threat behind Tom’s voice, no magic thrumming through it. There’s just Tom, who’s standing in front of him with an expression that borders on concerned. Tom, who is always so composed except when it comes to Harry. Tom, who’s Harry’s best friend. Best everything.

“I’m in love with you,” Harry finally says, meeting Tom’s eyes with a challenging look. If Tom doesn’t take this well, then Harry will just push and pull at their friendship until it locks back into place. He’s not giving Tom up just because of some stupid feelings that his friends won’t leave well enough alone about. Tom is too important to him for that. Also, never getting to pet Tom’s raccoon form again would be too much for Harry to bear. “It was on Hermione’s birthday. We snuck out to the Hog’s Head, Hermione pretended to be horrified and reluctant until she gave in, and Ginny made a bet that we wouldn’t win the next quidditch game. I took her up on it because I thought there was no way we were going to lose. And then we did. That’s it.”

Tom huffs, a tiny little smile tugging at his lips. “Remind me to thank her.”

“Thank h—” Harry’s words are muffled as Tom’s lips meet his. He scrambles to catch up, head spinning as he tugs Tom closer, wrapping his arms around Tom as he kisses him back with everything he has. It’s Tom’s, always has been, just now he realizes Tom feels the same in return. It could be eons later that the kiss gentles and they pull back enough to look into each other’s eyes. Behind the passion, there’s such an uncanny gentleness in Tom that Harry can’t look away. “Tell me?”

“I care about you.”

Harry smiles. “Tell me.”

“I love you,” Tom says, his words quiet, for Harry’s ears alone.

Harry can’t breathe, but he drags Tom in for another kiss. Breath is overrated.

And another kiss, and another.

**Author's Note:**

> (“As your boyfriend, I demand visiting rights for Mr. Tomcoon.”  
> “I hate you,” Tom says, but Harry can already see him giving in.)
> 
> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](https://crownwithoutstones.tumblr.com/).


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